


Procrastination

by SilveretteRose



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Mild Sexual Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4469135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilveretteRose/pseuds/SilveretteRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're quite the persistent girl, but the Doctor's having none of it…or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Procrastination

Your Doctor was quite the procrastinator. 

You think it’d be the opposite with the whole “protector of the universe” and “oncoming storm” and all those other big and impressive and awesome names, but no. The Time Lord had the worst tendency to leave things to the last minute—giving you a heart attack in the process—but always managing to clean up the mess before it became too big to handle and mucked everything else up. It was a good thing he pulled off saving the world so well, of course, but you couldn’t help but get a bit annoyed whenever you were in the Daleks’ little plunger-like clutches and had to wait many agonizing hours for your madman with a box to actually show up and whisk you back onto the TARDIS with him.

Saving the universe wasn’t the only thing he left up to the last minute, however. 

Your Doctor also had a bad habit of waiting until your pent-up frustration had reached the _breaking point_ before he made a move. He was clueless and quite oblivious to non-platonic feelings, it would seem. Now, whether he had trained himself to be like that or it was naturally-occurring, you never knew. All you could tell was that it was _extremely_ aggravating and you could hardly stand for it. You both _knew_ you were crazy for each other, and _you_ were not afraid to show it. But the Doctor, oh the _Doctor_ —he was a rather big chicken when it came to openly expressing his emotions. Such a coward when it came to matters of romance. You would find it rather comical if it didn’t bother you so greatly. Hugs and handshakes were A-okay in his book, but for some reason, kisses and hickeys and other obvious activities of intimacy were off-limits. Which, of course, included the undeniably awkward topic of sex.

But today, you had literally reached the end of your rope. Your body was hot and irritated and you were getting _unbelievably_ bothered by the way he was messing with his hair right now. His nimble fingers were combing through the dark strands erratically as his green eyes darted back and forth, obviously at odds with himself over whatever was going on within the TARDIS’ engine. His red bow tie was loose and hung about his collarbone in the messiest way, and he had discarded his tan overcoat over the railing due to the rising temperatures within the console room—which were _not_ helping matters for you. His suspenders were pulled tight over his shoulders, keeping his button-up shirt pressed against his chest and sculpting certain details agonizingly-well for your prying (e/c) eyes to see. 

The Doctor let out a tiny sound of frustration, causing you to snap to attention. His shoes caused small muted _thuds_ to emit from the glass floor of the TARDIS’ control center while he paced around the console, fiddling with random levers and buttons here and there as he made his way back over to you. 

“So…” you began, crossing your arms as you awaited his verdict.

“So,” replied the Doctor awkwardly, “I may have torn a rather large hole in the fabric of reality in the sky of Barcelona in the process of searching for the Hijunsha System’s legendary Museum of Fezes, but who’s to say the planet’s inhabitants will or won’t mind it? I say we leave the subject alone and go for a nice cuppa and some Jammie Dodgers back on Earth, yeah?” He clasped his hands together and flashed you one of his stupid “I-screwed-up” smiles, nervously messing with his bow tie as he did so.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and attempted to push away all naughty thoughts you had been having previously. “Doctor, I thought you said we were going to visit London in the first place, not the ‘legendary Museum of Fezes’. Is there even such a thing? Why in the name of the stars were you searching for _that_ instead of flying us off to London to visit the Ponds? Besides, ‘a tear in the fabric of reality’? I know you well enough to say you’d never leave anything of the sort unattended! What’s really going on?”

“You know, ever since I suggested the idea of a fez museum to the natives of the Hijunsha System, there has been such a thing,” he said, easily dodging your question. “The people of Onorhu seemed especially taken by the idea. In fact, I think they’ve been collecting fezes in my honour ever since the second century,” he added thoughtfully. 

“Doctor!”

“Right, right, sorry!” He reached behind him to push a large red button and spin a bright golden wheel, then straightened his bow tie and admitted, “So I may have been lying about the whole Barcelona thing. And so the TARDIS may actually just be a bit low on fuel. That doesn’t change the fact that the Hijunsha System does indeed have a Museum of Fezes dedicated to yours truly!” 

“I don’t care about the fezes!” you snapped. “I just want to know where and _when_ we’re going! I promised Amy we’d be at their apartment complex _exactly_ at ten, and you know how she gets! If we’re so much as a _minute_ late, she’ll have my head! Ever since you showed up twelve years late, she’s always had an issue with tardiness!” 

“You don’t need to go bringing that up!” the Doctor said indignantly. “Twelve years to her, maybe, but five minutes to you and I! It wasn’t like I dilly-dallied on purpose! The Cloister Bell went off, hell nearly broke loose, and I needed to put a stop to it before we both blew up! You know, _**BANG!**_ Painful explosion, bits of Doctor and (Name) all over the place, and wouldn’t that be a right bother to clean up. Plus, I had to get about doing all that in my burnt-up old pinstripe suit!” He swiped his overcoat from the railing of the TARDIS and began to pull it back on, adjusting his sleeves as you watched him. “But nevermind that! You’re right when it comes to Amelia—”

“As always.”

“—she’ll have my head as well if we don’t materialise on her doorstep in exactly—” The Doctor slid up his sleeve and checked his watch set specifically to Earth time, Greenwich Zone. “—one hour. Luckily, we have a time machine. I’ll just pop down to the central controls and have a quick look-see, and maybe we’ll find out how much fuel the TARDIS needs before we get pulled into the nearest strongest gravitational field and go crashing down to the closest celestial object’s surface.”

“Very reassuring,” you commented dryly as you moved to observe him from behind. Your eyes lingered on the little curls of dark hair on the nape of his _extremely tempting_ neck as you did so. You subconsciously licked your lips as the Doctor reached into his pocket for something—probably his sonic screwdriver. You stared as the man removed said object from his coat and bent over to study something beneath the console, poking his screwdriver randomly at the wires and complicated machinery of the TARDIS. You were both silent for a moment, then you said, “Doctor, we both know you’re just jabbing your probe at absolutely nothing. You’re doing that just for the sake of looking busy.”

The Doctor made an offended sound. “Oi! What makes you think I’m not doing anything useful?!”

“I know you too well. Now stand up and answer my questions, please,” you asked, probably not as politely as you could’ve. The Doctor gave a long, exasperated sigh before he climbed reluctantly to his feet, stowing his sonic screwdriver in his pocket before looking up at you. “Good. Now…how long until the TARDIS refuels?”

“…About twenty-four hours,” he admitted. 

“Can the TARDIS _go_ anywhere while she’s refueling?”

“…No.”

On the outside, your expression was unamused. On the inside, however, you were grinning like a madwoman. If the TARDIS couldn’t move or transport you both anywhere, that essentially meant that the Doctor was stuck with you inside the blue box until she was completely refuelled from the nearest star. Which also meant that he was going to have to spend time with you—quality time. As in, friends enjoying each others’ company time, not running from aliens while screaming bloody murder time. 

“You can’t do anything to speed this process up, can you Doctor?” you guessed.

He sighed. “No. Don’t go rubbing it in, now!” 

“I won’t,” you said almost instantly.

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed. “…Why have you suddenly become much more uncharacteristically submissive?”

“Because if you’re going to be stuck with me for an entire day, I figured I should at least be pleasant so you don’t want to kill yourself, or me, the entire time.” 

“Fair enough.”

You allowed a tiny smile to cross your face. “So, Doctor…what shall we do to pass the time?”

“I suppose we could head to the library together. The TARDIS seems to have taken a liking to hiding all of my favourite books, and I could use your help finding them,” he remarked, starting to walk past you toward one of the many staircases. “It’s become rather troublesome to hunt them all down, you know!” he added, raising his voice and directing it toward the TARDIS rather than you. “Jaroh Kuroston’s research on the rare X-tonic bananas on Midnight is quite dear to me, if you aren’t aware! As are Neljya Lquiwk’s journals on the habits of the flying Ashnugots of Bubunoha!” 

You reached out and caught the Doctor by his wrist. He half-turned, surprise written across his face when he asked, “Something the matter?” Rare confusion enveloped his vast mind when you didn’t respond. Could humans fall asleep standing up with their eyes open, or was something legitimately wrong? He couldn’t recall and instead attempted to come up with an explanation himself. “You didn’t eat those Jelly Babies in my pocket, did you? Amy told me they gave her an awful stomachache… Wait, no, did you sneak some of the custard out of the kitchen? The stuff in the fridge’s gone bad, and my packs of Jammie Dodgers are all stale. Don’t tell me you—”

You cut him off after a minute of his rambling. “No, Doctor, I’m fine. Just a bit…frustrated.”

“…Frustrated?” repeated the Doctor. “Why’s that?” 

“Because, for a man notoriously known for his intelligence, you sure are slow.”

The Doctor gave you an affronted look. “What’s that supposed to mean—?!”

You seized him by the other wrist and pulled him closer, effectively shutting him up. His eyes widened slightly at your expression, and you smirked when he swallowed with difficulty. You began walking, backing him up slowly against the console of the TARDIS. You forced his hands down on either side of him against the controls as well, looking him straight in the eye as you did so. One of your hands wandered up his arm—you allowed your fingertips to splay across the arm of his coat and play up the length of his clothed arm, heading toward his shoulder. Your smirk widened as the Doctor stiffened, watching your every move with a strange sense of reluctant interest. The smallest of shudders danced through him as your fingers reached his shoulder, moving slowly toward his neck. You watched in satisfaction as his green eyes fluttered shut. You slid your hand up the skin of his neck and took hold of his jaw between the fingers of that same hand, grinning as you lightly pulled him forward. He responded almost unconsciously—he leaned forward as if compelled by your alluring movements. Quickly, you did the same, bringing your lips to the skin of his throat, sucking softly at the smooth flesh. 

The Doctor’s eyes shot open immediately and he pulled away, tensing. He shook his head firmly. “No—” he started to say, but you cut him off easily by wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him down. Your mouth landed on his neck again, and this time the Time Lord could say nothing before you attacked his jaw with kisses. You nipped and licked at the tender skin, savouring the sweet, ageless taste of the Doctor—a mix of something old, like the smell of sage books and the scent of that golden Time Vortex dust somehow compressed into a flavour, as well as the smallest hint of cinnamon and the custard he always ate with his fish fingers. You bit and suckled the flesh with gusto, enjoying the barely-concealed grunts of the man you were pleasuring. You pressed yourself against the Time Lord’s body, and a pleased grin overtook your face when you felt the Doctor’s jaw go completely slack. Your fingers threaded themselves into the hair at the base of his neck, tangling into the soft locks of brown as you continued to work on his neck.

His free hand hovered awkwardly in the air above your back while his other strained against your grip that was holding it down on the console. You took the hint and allowed his hand to go free, so now both were hanging about your body, probably still unsure of what to do. Finally, the Doctor shook his head again and reached behind him, taking hold of your hands that were still wrapped around his neck. You ignored whatever he was doing and continued to kiss his utterly amazing jaw, steadily moving up to his cheek. The Doctor, meanwhile, unwrapped your arms from around his neck and forced you to drop them, but you only brought them back up to rest against his chest. He made a frustrated sound and brought his hands up to set them on both of your shoulders, concentrating very hard through the haze of pleasure that had enveloped his body due to your efforts. Quickly, he pushed you back, forcing you away from him and most importantly—your mouth to lose contact with his neck. 

You blinked once, big (e/c) eyes staring at him in confusion.

The Doctor ignored this. “No,” he said again with yet another firm shake of his head. 

“Why not?” you pouted, crossing your arms. “This is exactly why I said you were slow!”

“Because I refuse to go this far with you?”

“No! Because you can’t tell when I’m extremely sexually frustrated! You’re standing over there in all your cute glory, messing about with your _bloody tempting_ hair, rambling on about things in your _bloody smooth_ voice, mucking around with your stupid bow tie with those _bloody quick_ fingers, and bending over with your _bloody arse_ right in my face! You, Doctor, are the most clueless man I’ve ever met!” You marched up to him, but instead of kissing him this time, you reached out, seized one of his suspenders, and snapped it with all the strength you had. “ _That’s_ why I said you’re so slow!” 

The Doctor lurched backward out of reflex, a pout on his face. “Ow! There’s no need for that! You know, I don’t like violence, and suspender-snapping counts as violence! _And_ it also counts as cheating!” 

You lowered your voice and murmured, “Would you like me to make you feel better?”

The Doctor stood still for a moment, almost as though he was contemplating your offer. Then he realised the double meaning to your words and quickly said, “N…No, I don’t want you to make me feel better! I don’t need you to do _anything_ for me! I’ll just pop into the kitchen and steal some ice from the fridge to soothe the sting from your underhanded suspender attack—”

“Or maybe I can simply pleasure away the worries,” you said seductively, interrupting him as you inched forward, hands extending slowly toward his chest. 

The Doctor backed up quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet as you crept toward him. His back hit the railing of the TARDIS and he nearly pitched over the side. At the last moment, he righted himself, but then you were on him like a hungry predator. “Now see here, (Name)—!”

“You talk too much,” you murmured, standing on your tippy toes to level yourself with his mouth. At the same time, you seized his wrists again so he would be unable to push you away, then you breathed a small puff of air over his lips. You knew he was probably capable of overpowering you, but you figured something about your touch was making him go weak. That stroked your ego in the best possible way—causing you to want to mercilessly attack this man with your mouth and freely explore his body with your anticipating hands. You eagerly brought your lips to his cheek, kissing softly as you made your way down once again. The Doctor strained against your advances weakly, but as you had predicted he seemed a bit too dazed by your touch to do anything of the sort. So, grinning, you finally left his neck alone and slowly brought your lips to hover before his, teasingly keeping them from fully touching the Time Lord’s. You could see his Adam’s apple bob nervously as you leaned closer, brushing your mouth to his just barely. 

Your teasing was a double-edged sword, however, as you could feel your lower regions heating up from your actions. 

It grew too unbearable for you—you closed the distance between you both quickly. You slammed your lips onto the Doctor’s with clear hunger in your lust-filled eyes, releasing his hands in a moment of your own weakness, needing to be able to feel up the Doctor’s chest. Your hands danced up the man’s fairly-built chest and beneath the large tan coat he always wore over his button-up, and you grinned evilly into the kiss as you pushed it off of him. His hands—which had flitted about awkwardly before he reluctantly settled them on your forearms—suddenly stiffened when he felt you remove his tweed jacket. Still kissing him, you easily took hold of his arms and slid the coat all the way down until it hung uncomfortably about his wrists, forcing him to allow the coat to drop to the floor in order to relieve himself of the weight. 

Once his jacket fell to the floor, the Doctor seemed to give up resisting you, permitting you to kiss him without fighting back. His hands had once more found their way to your upper arms and were gripping them tightly, while your arms wrapped themselves back around his neck. He allowed you to tangle your hands into his wonderful mess of dark hair, twirling the strands around the tips of your fingers as you made out with him passionately. Your technique shifted with each kiss—as soon as you pulled away for air, both you _and_ the Doctor leaned forward to lock your lips together in a different angle to test the sensations. Soon enough, your tongue darted out to trace his top lip, and you took his bottom lip between your teeth and bit it gently, begging him to open up to you. He gave in rather easily, and you eagerly seized hold of the chance to explore his mouth before sliding your tongue past his own to coax him into a battle for dominance. You weren’t surprised when he won—he’d had nine hundred years of experience, after all. 

Muffled sounds escaped both of you—a tiny grunt of approval from the Doctor or a small stifled moan from you—as your kisses became more heated with each passing minute. The Doctor’s hands were practically digging into your arms by this point; his mouth was just about as hungry as yours now that you had gotten him just as aroused as you. Eventually, his hands drifted to your shoulders and held you tightly in place while his mouth was preoccupied with keeping up with yours, and you found yourself backing up this time instead of the Doctor. He managed to spin both of you around and press you into the railing in his place, asserting his control over you and once more kissing you hungrily, tearing into your mouth with a passion instead of vise-versa. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the Doctor was the first to pull away. You watched as his green eyes darted to the console of the TARDIS behind you and refused to meet your own, hands slowly sliding down from your shoulders to rest upon your forearms once again. His fingers were stiff and his posture was tense; he looked as though he was preparing himself for something unpleasant. You noted this all with a slight frown and cocked your head to the right, a bit bothered by the fact that he seemed to not have enjoyed that as much as you did. 

There was a pregnant silence between you, then—

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, casting his eyes to the floor, “but we can’t. You know we can’t.” 

“Of course we can,” you said instantly, coming to life as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Twenty-four hours, yeah? The TARDIS can’t go anywhere, we’re alone in your lovely blue box that’s bigger on the inside, and the Ponds aren’t expecting us ’til ten. We’re in a time machine, Doctor. We can just pop back to ten o’clock this morning, and Amy will never have to know!” 

“You know that’s not the reason why!” he snapped suddenly, dropping his hands from your shoulders and reaching up to lay a hand on either side of your head, both of his thumbs resting on your cheeks. His endless eyes bored into your own with a terrifying sense of urgency. “The moment I do this to you, (Name), we’re going to be connected. On a deeper level than before, one you simply cannot comprehend now until it actually happens. I…I can’t do that to you, do you understand me?! The moment we bond, that’s the moment you become someone who’s trusted by me and means more to me than anyone else in the whole extent of the universe! You’ll be the girl _every single one_ of my enemies, those who’ve ever had a black encounter with me, will be after! They’ll use you, threaten you, put you in danger so I’ll have to do whatever they ask of me! _I can’t do that to you._ ”

You gazed at him for a moment, then slowly reached up to lay one of your own hands over his own. “Raggedy Man…” you whispered, “…you’re afraid to love me because you think it’ll put me in danger?” You shook your head slightly and allowed your lips to turn upward in a tiny smile. “Doctor, I’ve seen so many things with you. You picked me up and whisked me away from Earth back when you had those large ears, that crazy and somewhat terrifying smile, and that obsession with bananas. I’ve been with you and watched as you defeated evils, conquered seemingly unstoppable forces, and stopped the end of the universe many times. I’ve been by your side through two regenerations, from that bloke I mentioned earlier, to the man with the _great_ hair and sad, regretful brown eyes. I’ve faced death, been held at gunpoint, sexually harassed, pushed off cliffs, seriously injured, witnessed the destruction of worlds, and kidnapped more times than I can count. But you know what?” Your smile softened, and your voice grew quiet. “You’ve come to my rescue _every single time_. I don’t doubt you, Doctor. And I’m more than willing to risk my life to be here with you, and make you happy.”

To say the Doctor looked stunned was an understatement. He looked beyond astounded by your words, as though he had been expecting for you to agree with him and demand for him to take you home right that instant. It was as though you had just told him that yes, you did believe in the Museum of Fezes, and yes, you would indeed go visit it with him. Which, in itself, was actually impossible—of _course_ you’d never agree to such a thing—but that was just how shocked the Doctor was. It took him a very long time to come up with a response, and when he did, he didn’t regret a single word he said, nor action he took.

“God, I love you so _bloody_ much,” he breathed, and yanked your head forward to lock your lips with his in another deep, mind-blowing kiss, dropping his hands from your face to wrap eagerly around your waist, grasping at any available showing skin.

You were stunned for a second by his uncharacteristic words and actions, but then you responded, kissing back furiously. And this time, with the Doctor participating in the kiss completely and not fighting to get away, you found yourself quickly losing air as you attempted to keep up with him. His teeth were biting at you to get you to open your mouth—which you did almost instantly. Then his tongue was snaking in and he was kissing you with a hunger, once more dominating the kiss as you turned to putty in his _very capable_ hands. As you once again made out with him, idly, you wondered why you had expected anything different, but then you remembered what the Doctor was like. You figured he’d be so awkward about this kind of thing that you’d both cringe just remembering it, but it would seem things were the opposite. Then again, you kept forgetting he had nine hundred years of experience. 

Once again, the Doctor was the first one to pull away, but this time he looked directly at you instead of avoiding your piercing (e/c) gaze. He managed a rather tiny sheepish smile and stepped back, releasing you from his grasp and turning toward the TARDIS’ console again. The Doctor paced toward the center of the control room and began once more fiddling with the various levers and buttons and curious little trinkets that were somehow attached to the TARDIS’ controls. You watched confusedly as he absentmindedly twisted a key in one side of the console, then danced around to the other side and smashed a large button with his fist. It took you a minute to realise what he was doing, but once you did, you swore a vein throbbed in your temple.

“Doctor!” you said indignantly. “You’re utterly _hopeless_ , you are! After I give you that speech about how much I care for you, after you admit how much you love me and kiss me like you _want_ me, you still refuse to continue!” 

“What?” He feigned ignorance. “I’m not doing anything remotely wrong! Simply fixing up the TARDIS a bit—”

You cut him off. “Come off it! You’re nothing but a big _chicken_! You’re still avoiding exactly what I want! You keep putting it off like a schoolboy procrastinating on an essay!”

You could faintly see the man’s cheeks turn a bit pink, but he protested, “Oi! I’m doing nothing of the sort! We just…we don’t have time for that! Don’t you think we should just go book-hunting in the library? The TARDIS still thinks it’s funny that I have to beg for my books back!” He saw your expression (which was certainly _not_ won over) and tried a different track. “Perhaps we could go swimming in the pool—?” Though at the thought of you clad in one of those skimpy American bikinis the TARDIS always provided for you sent him backpedalling quickly. “Scratch that! How about a cuppa? I’d still like to relax with a spot of tea, don’t you? I was promised tea a while back and still haven’t got any!” 

“Doctor,” you said slowly, “we certainly _do_ have enough time. Twenty-four hours? Unless you Time Lords have way more energy than we humans do, I don’t think we’ll last _that_ long.” His cheeks darkened in colour, but you ignored him and kept going, “We’re all alone here on your precious little _sexy_ spaceship. And I’m dreadfully bored. Don’t you think we could do something a bit more _fun_? Going hunting for your dusty old books hardly sounds like a good way to pass the time!” 

The Doctor was running out of reasons to deny you with. “(Name), if Amy finds out—”

“How the _bloody hell_ would she find out about something like this?! Unless you go around blabbing about your sex life, I don’t think we’ll have an issue!”

“Amy has _ways_ , (Name). She’ll get you to blurt out what kind of _knickers_ you’re wearing if you’re not careful!” 

“ _That’s it._ ” 

You cracked your knuckles, pushed off of the railing of the TARDIS, and descended menacingly upon the Doctor with a very seductive look on your face. Stalking up to him, you shed the coat you were wearing and kicked off your shoes, leaving you in nothing but your thin (f/c) top, skinny jeans, and socks. You felt the barest hint of satisfaction when you saw the Doctor’s fists clench and his Adam’s apple bob once more as he swallowed with difficulty. Your hands went right to his chest, and you traced both suspenders in a teasingly slow manner. You went all the way up to where they sat upon his shoulders, slowly hooking a finger under each one and lifting up. You ignored the way the Doctor shifted, sliding the suspenders from his shoulders and down either arm until they hung from his waist. Grinning evilly once more, you slowly traced your hands back up his arms and set them down upon his shoulders. 

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to have a bit of fun~?” you asked shamelessly. 

The Doctor was visibly sweating. “…No.” He didn’t sound sure—in fact, he sounded the opposite of sure, even to his own ears. He was _very_ unsure of himself. Incredibly unsure. So unsure he felt the need to sprint out of the control room and dive into the swimming pool before you caused him to snap. 

You planted a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “One hundred percent sure?”

His voice was weak. “One…one _billion_ percent sure—” So completely, utterly, totally, _not_ sure.

“No you’re not. Come on, you stubborn madman, you know you want to~”

“N-No…” That swimming pool was sounding better by the minute. 

“Doctor…” you said with those big, (e/c) eyes that you _knew_ he couldn’t resist. 

“B-But Amy—”

“Doesn’t have to know. And even so…how many times do you think Amy and Rory have gone ahead and done what they wanted? Especially once you got rid of the bunk beds?”

“……”

“Exactly. So, Doctor—” You stood on your tiptoes once more and put your lips to his ear. “—let’s have some fun, yeah? A whole day to ourselves, and still be back in time for tea with the Ponds.”

The Doctor blinked once, swallowed, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He scanned you once, silently, and read whatever the probe reported to him. “Your hormone levels are skyrocketing,” he commented lightly, avoiding your eyes. 

“Yes.”

“Are you _sure_ you’re not in the mood for tea?”

“ _Doctor._ ”

“If I run, are you going to jump on me?”

“Most likely, yes.”

He heaved a long sigh. “I suppose…if we’re waiting for the TARDIS to refuel…and we can’t go anywhere…and there’s no one around but us…”

“And that’s why you’re the coolest man around,” you said, beaming at him. “Now, come along, Doctor. We’ve got some work to do.”

He tucked his sonic screwdriver back into his pocket and frowned. “‘Work’? That’s what you’re calling it?”

You grinned. “Of course. Now…my bedroom or yours?”

The Doctor groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed my portrayal of the Eleventh Doctor! A little rusty when it comes to smut, but it gets the job done. Thank you very much for reading!


End file.
